


just a pup

by searwrites (sears)



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst and Fluff, M/M, see summary for additional tags/warnings, teenage fondling and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 12:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2068614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sears/pseuds/searwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from tumblr: sousuke/momotarou (with hints of rin/ai) | where a barely-drunken night with momo in someone else’s house has the potential to ruin everything for sousuke | warnings for underage drinking, underage sexual content (relationship between a 16 year old and an 18 year old), slight aggression, feigning sexuality, um probably more idk i will add if i think of any | rated f for filth </p><p>-for all like five of us that ship this /hugs tightly/. i love the idea of momotarou knowing exactly who he is, just being so terrified of letting other people know-</p>
            </blockquote>





	just a pup

When Sousuke agrees to go to the after party for the winter swim meet with Rin, despite his injuries and having not participated, he isn’t expecting to turn into a sort of glorified babysitter, but that’s kind of what happens. Ai bounds over to Rin, brimming with this worshipful energy that sometimes makes Sousuke feel like he has to squint to see past it, and Rin greets him with a warmth that's equally as powerful - though it looks more subdued, on the surface. Momo is there, leaning over Ai’s shoulder, nearly toppling him right into Rin.

“Where is Gou-san? Rin-senpai, is your sister here?” Momo practically shrieks, his nasally voice all the more obnoxious when he’s yelling.

Sousuke only barely resists the urge to roll his eyes, as if a short winter break would have made any sort of difference to Momo's behavior. He’s like a broken record, every time. And it’s always only for Gou, even though she shows zero interest in him. There are other girls - notably cute ones too - that eye Momo in the halls, but he never even seems to notice them. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

Rin and Ai get to talking, and Rin ends up wandering away with him, Ai hanging off his arm and babbling excitedly about his winter break, a colorful looking drink in his hand. Sousuke knows Rin doesn't drink, so he's a little surprised to watch him take the occasional sip out of Ai's cup. The party is being held at a second year's house, so the alcohol can't be packing too much of a punch- that drink is probably mostly sugar. 

Sousuke is slightly less fortunate, stuck with the most forcefully curious teenager on the planet, wondering why he isn’t in his bed with a heat pack, eating leftover sweets from home. Momo has a beer in his hand, and another one that he offers to Sousuke, who only accepts after the fourth or fifth attempt.

“Why didn't you swim in the meet, Sousuke-senpai?” Momo asks, the minute Sousuke decides to take a seat near the edge of the main part of the room, avoiding most of the tipsy socializing.

“I injured my shoulder over the break,” he grunts, staring over near the island in the kitchen where Ai continues to chatter excitedly at Rin, his cheeks flushed in warmth, probably feeling what little alcohol there is in his drink. Sousuke ends up wondering why Momo hasn’t gone over there to join them yet and left him to sulk in peace, though he decides not to say anything about it.

“Really? It doesn’t look injured,” the fiery headed demon proclaims, and then with fingers like thick, pointed needles, he grips the meat of Sousuke’s shoulder, digging right into the dull ache of the sprain.

“ _Ow_ , jesus!” Sousuke turns on him, flinging his arm away and turning to glare.

“Sorry, I just. You look like you’re made of rock or something, heh.”

“It’s just a sprain,” Sousuke says, adjusting the newly formed kink in his shoulder, stretching it in tandem with his neck, “I don’t want to make it worse by swimming on it.”

“Ah, gotcha, gotcha,” Momo says, nodding empathetically, as if he wouldn’t be constantly squealing in any similar kind of pain. They sit for another awkward moment where Momo still doesn’t leave him alone, instead chugging what's left of his beer and saying, “You look really good, by the way. In all your, uh,  _rock-ish_  glory.”

Sousuke can’t help the small chuckle that escapes him. The way the sound of it lights Momo’s face up is something new, though.

“You’re such an idiot sometimes,” he mumbles, and Momo’s grin only grows, like he knows that was meant as some kind of endearment.

“What?” the kid retorts, acting like he’s hurt by Sousuke’s heartless names, even though he’s still got that dopey smile on his face, “That was a genuine compliment, you know. Hey, don’t I look bigger?”

Momo stands and flexes his arms comically, his bony elbows like v-brackets, framing his face.

“Not at all,” Sousuke says, ignoring the kid’s huffing and puffing as he sits back down.

It’s true, for the most part. Momo is still skin and bones, though he’s an inch or so taller. His chest is getting a little thicker, but he’s still a runt overall. It’s probably living with Ai that makes him feel bigger - Ai makes  _everybody_  look huge.

Rin and Ai finally join in on the games going on in the other room, and Sousuke is too curious now not to ask.

“Aren’t you going to join them?”

Momo shrugs, looking unsure of himself, and it makes Sousuke wonder if he’d injured himself too somehow. “ _You’re_  not,” he says, as if that’s excuse enough - like he can’t leave Sousuke’s side, or something.

Sousuke decides to concede this before it turns into an argument and says, “Alright.”

The more Sousuke pays attention, the more he’s beginning to notice how twitchy and tense Momo is being. He’s just about to comment on the constant jitter of his leg, when Momo suddenly stands and asks, “Do you want a drink? My treat.”

“Uh… sure.”

“You have to come with me though,” Momo says, grinning when Sousuke groans, “There’s always a catch, nothing is free, heh.”

“Alright, Momo, I will escort you to the kitchen,” Sousuke replies mechanically, trying to hide his amusement.

By the time they get over to the kitchen there aren't any beers left, so someone who seems to know his way around directs them to the cooler out on the porch. Momo pulls out a can for himself, tosses one at Sousuke, and then they both take a seat on the lowest step. Sousuke is actually thankful for the break. The thick air in there was too much, reeking of chlorine soaked skin and hazy from all the bodies stuffed into such a small space. It’s cold out - very cold - but it’s fresh air, and Sousuke takes a deep breath of it in, wishing his shoulder would heal quicker.

“Hey, watch this!” Momo shouts, so sudden it almost startles Sousuke, and then stands and attempts to crunch his can between his forearm and bicep after chugging what was left of it.

Except he’s a goddamn fool, because it takes  _no_  strength to crush aluminum, and all he ends up doing is puncturing the soft skin on the inside of his elbow, squealing and freezing mid-flex, his eyes wide in panic. He clearly doesn’t even understand what he just did, so Sousuke stands and approaches him, makes some passable comment about his lack of a brain, and then quickly pulls the crunched can away from his arm, ignoring the way the kid yelps. Sousuke staunches the wound with his thumb, gripping around the rest of his thin arm with enough pressure to keep any bleeding under control.

“Why do you do such stupid shit sometimes?” Sousuke grumbles, his focus down on Momo’s hand, where he’s holding his wrist up to try to control the blood flow, squeezing a little.

“That’s all you ever say,” Momo says quietly, and the bare hurt that’s there in his voice makes Sousuke look up at him.

“What?”

“Like. I tell you you look good and stuff, and you just tell me I’m an idiot,” Momo says, all in a rush, punctuated by a nervous little laugh.

“What is your point, Momo?

Momo begins to blush, high across his cheekbones, his eyes doing a frantic dance between the features on Sousuke’s face, like he isn’t sure where to look. He’s lifted his arm now so that it can grip Sousuke’s bicep too - if anyone were to look at them right now, it would seem like they were holding onto each other for something.

“You just,” Momo begins, wetting his lips and swallowing thickly, “-look really good.”

None of this makes sense, but when has this kid ever? When has anyone who claims to be obsessed with girls ignored the ones that actually try and talk to them; when has anyone ever looked at Sousuke like this, asking for something without words?

He’ll blame it on curiosity, then, when he takes a cautious step towards Momo, readjusts his grip around Momo’s cut, and then drops his arm. What he isn’t expecting is for Momo to lift it, to press a trembling, open palm to his chest and leave it there, to look at him again seeking some kind of silent approval. He must read it on his face, because Momo begins to run his hand down the center of Sousuke’s chest, mapping out the shape of him, his thin fingers curling around each contour of bone and muscle.

By the time Sousuke has enough sense in him to look, Momo seems a little gone - swaying on his feet, his eyelids heavy and his mouth almost obscenely wet, like he keeps licking his lips. Sousuke only knows he’s leaning forward because he can tell Momo’s breath is shaky, leaving his lips in little puffs of chilly winter air.

“Are you drunk?” Sousuke asks, surprising himself with how hoarse his voice sounds.

“What?!” Momo yelps, and then he’s gripping Sousuke’s shirt in his fist,  _pulling_ , “No!”

The rest is like the burst of a dam, the rushing realization that you want something enough to go for it, even if it seems dangerous - or even if it’s a teenage boy you thought you could only barely stand. Sousuke kisses him and grips both of his biceps now, forcing the boy's body to bend to him, his mouth a bruising force beyond his apparent control. Momo arches up and into him, whimpering, begging with his insistent mouth and his tugging hands, and Sousuke decides it’s too cold to do this here, and anybody could walk out.

Sousuke ends up dragging him by his arm, careful not to squeeze his cut, and then doesn’t really stop to think about what he’s doing or where he’s going until he's barrelled through the door of the guest house, found an empty enough room to stuff them in. Sousuke shuts the door behind them and Momo is huffing and panting, his hair all winded and his eyes scanning Sousuke for something.

A ridiculous wave of self hatred hits him then. What the fuck is he doing, manhandling a first year and taking him to some random room in a strangers house, all because he seems a little lonely after a few beers, and sometimes he looks at Sousuke like he’s made of something edible? He’s about to say something about it - to tell Momo he’s sorry, he doesn’t know why he's acting like this - but Momo leans around him, twists the lock on the door and then grabs Sousuke by the back of the neck.

If anything, the way Momo kisses only emphasizes how young he is - how his bony arms are all elbows, sticking out in all directions, his hands graceless and pushy in where they grab and pull. Momo’s heartbeat is so loud that Sousuke can feel it when he kisses him, and the needy way he keeps pushing his hips into Sousuke’s thigh is too much.

Sousuke shoves Momo back, with just enough force to get the excited glimmer in his eyes to look a little startled. When his knees hit the futon behind them he drops backwards onto it, and then Sousuke is climbing over him, pinning him there with the entire breadth of his body.

Momo makes a frustrated little noise, tugging on Sousuke’s collar, and he mutters, “Sousuke-senpai. Sit on me. Please?”

Sousuke looks down at this kid like he’s written in hieroglyphics - something fascinating yet impossible to understand. He puts his weight down slowly, more a roll of his body than sitting, and has to drop his head with a grunt when Momo moans and writhes beneath him, pushing his hips up like they’re out of his control - like this is a need more than a want, hard contact with the body above him.

It also doesn’t help that this position helps Sousuke feel even more acutely the frantic beat of Momo’s heart, how it has his pulse fluttering beneath the thin skin of his neck, the way his breath sounds ragged. Sousuke licks over the stuttering pulse, beating like a motor hum, and then kisses Momo fully - slow, soothing licks into his mouth, an attempt at calming his clearly overworked nerves down.

Momo lets go of a startled shout, winding his bony arms around Sousuke’s neck again and hiding his face against his shoulder. Sousuke holds him there, the sprain in his shoulder burning in pain, and doesn’t realize until Momo’s pulling his arms back, stuffing his shaking hands down between their bodies, rubbing the front of Sousuke’s pants - Momo  _came_  from that, from being kissed and held down.

It’s realizing this that has Sousuke groaning, spilling in his own briefs, more than the desperate and messy rub of Momo’s open palm - that he has this effect on someone, anyone. And that this particular person is a first year that compared him to a rock, an eager little thing with sharp eyes and a soft, wet mouth.

Sousuke gets changed out of his briefs behind the door of the closet, awareness sinking into him like a needle, painful only when you think about it. Momo takes the dirty briefs when Sousuke offers them, his face turning pink when Sousuke has to clarify, "Wipe yourself off". Momo gets it then, smiling with a nervous tremble, cleaning himself off while Sousuke respectfully turns his back. He wonders how obvious it will be if he walks out of this place with a sixteen year old, looking debauched and one pair of underwear less between them, but then thinking about it like that only makes him turn hot with embarrassed want.

“Uh, I should go. Meet them, yeah,” Momo says, scratching the back of his neck, and the bed-ruffled state of his hair makes Sousuke’s chest ache in a way it never has before - almost possessive, a sort of _‘I did that’_  thing to be proud of.

“Sure,” he says, feigning indifference up until the minute the door closes behind Momo, when he drops back down to the futon in the dark, covering his face with both hands.

Well, if he wanted to get rid of the kid, that might’ve been one way to do it.

-

Things are, not surprisingly, awkward after that night. Momo seems to be ignoring Sousuke, though it’s hard to tell. He’s always seemed a little nervous or intimidated around him, since the very beginning, but now it seems almost calculated - intentional. Sousuke curses himself everytime he over analyzes it this way.

The one thing he seems to be doing more of, which seemed impossible, is making more of a show of asking Rin about Gou. It’s slightly infuriating - which only turns more so when Sousuke realizes he lets himself get affected by it - but Sousuke’s always been good about ignoring things, or seeming to.

Things don’t exactly  _seem_  anymore awkward, at least not on the surface. The tension is all hidden, so attending practice as normal isn’t as horrible as it seems - although seeing Momo’s lean body in the flesh is alarming, the first few times, despite having seen it many times before.

It’s the end of practice now, the burn in his shoulder just dull enough at this point to be considered a blessing, the full body ache of muscle after hours of practice something he’s learned to live for. They’re all in the locker room, Ai chattering at Rin, trying to decide where and what to eat. They may have asked Sousuke for his input, but for all the clouded haze of his mind right now, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

The thing that snaps him out of it is a thin hand grabbing him by the wrist, pulling him backwards and preventing him from blindly following Rin and Ai. It takes a second for him to realize, even after turning, that it’s Momo - and that he’s half hiding behind a row of lockers.

“So, uh. How’s your shoulder?” he asks, his entire body screaming unrestrained nerves - the way his leg jitters, the way he bites at his lips, scratches at his hair.

“Fine,” Sousuke replies, debating whether or not it would be better to just leave.

“You were swimming well. It didn’t look like you were in pain, heh.”

“It’s not that bad anymore,” Sousuke says, crossing an arm over his chest to squeeze the muscle in question, almost self consciously.

Momo nods, still standing like he’s a peg out of place, something lost and maybe a little terrified. Sousuke isn’t ready to feel the full force of his guilt for pulling Momo into a dark room, making him come in his pants. He turns to leave, the awkward silence hanging in the air between them like a cloud, but Momo grabs his arm again the minute he does.

“Hey, you know how Rin-senpai was giving that dorky kid from Iwatobi, like, lessons? The one that gave him the cookies?” Momo asks.

Sousuke quirks a brow. “Yeah?”

Momo grins, so full of nervous hope that it makes his eyes seem wet. “You could, like. Do that for me? Heh.”

He swallows then, and the quivering dip of his throat makes Sousuke’s stomach flip, the tips of his fingers itching with want. It’s ridiculous, and the fact he thought it was _him_  who had this effect on someone and not the other way around…

“You want me to do something for you?” Sousuke asks, pitching his voice low.

Momo nods, and then does the first self assured thing he’s done since all this mess happened - he tucks two fingers beneath the hem of Sousuke’s jammers, tugs him forward a little.

“You could do a lot of things, man,” Momo says, already sounding so short of breath.

“Yeah?”

Momo nods and then pulls him down with his other arm, all limbs and no grace, his elbow trapping Sousuke’s neck to him. With his other hand he grips Sousuke’s swimsuit in a tight fist, pulling everything in, like he wants to open up and absorb Sousuke in full, climb under his skin and stay there.

Sousuke ends up pinning him to the wall behind the lockers as he kisses him, licks right into his wet, desperate mouth, eats up every whimper and hungry moan. Momo trembles beneath the weight of him, his body arching up like he won’t survive without the contact, and it knocks the wind out of Sousuke - that he still wants him this much, that he ever did in the first place.

It’s Momo who pulls back, his entire face flushed pink in anxious embarrassment as he timidly asks, “Can I suck you in the showers?”

Sousuke exhales like he’s been punched, resting his forehead against Momo’s. “That’s a very specific request,” he croaks.

Momo grins, biting on one side of his lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

The sheer adolescent honesty of the request makes Sousuke’s cock jump in the tight restraint of his suit, and he ends up pushing Momo harder into the wall, nosing down the edge of his jaw to his neck. There isn’t much thinking involved, not when Momo starts to beg once Sousuke has Momo’s bony hips pushing into his, breathy grunts of “please, Sousuke-senpai, I wanna do it, please.”

He isn’t quite sure what exact allure the shower has, but he turns it on anyway after double checking that the locker room is indeed empty, swallowing down a whimper at the eager way Momo gets down on his knees, the spray of the shower pelting him in the face. His eyelashes are speckled with drops of water when he shuts them, leaning in to lick over the fabric of Sousuke’s jammers.

Sousuke runs a careful hand through the boy’s damp hair, pushes it away from his face. He tugs his suit down, suddenly struck with worry that the sight of a bare, hard cock will get Momo running for the hills and screaming about girls, but if anything the sight of Sousuke’s dick all flushed and dripping for him only has Momo’s eyes darkening, licking his lips.

He sucks him inexpertly, more eager curiosity than practise, pulling back to lick the majority of the thickness that he can’t fit in his mouth. Sousuke struggles to stand straight, his one hand gently cradling the back of Momo’s skull, the other smacked over his own mouth, half consciously squeezing mindlessly at his own face, dizzy with the effort of staying quiet. Momo’s mouth is smaller than one would expect with all the shit that comes out of it, his hot little tongue so fast, so desperate to taste everything.

Sousuke tries to warn the kid that he’s coming, but does it a little too late and ends up streaking Momo’s mouth and chin in pulsing strips of white. Sousuke feels drunk when he reaches down, grips Momo’s jaw and pushes his own come with the fat of his thumb into Momo’s mouth, smears it past his lips. It’s worse when Momo takes it, sucking it in hungrily.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Sousuke says to himself, stumbling backwards until his back hits the wall, running a shaking hand over his face. Momo just sits in the middle of the stall, drenched in water on his knees, his mouth red and used. He’s hard in his skimpy swimming briefs, the tip of his cock peeking out from the hem of them. His knees even twitch open, spreading his legs there on the floor.

Momo stands eventually, switching the shower off, and he looks entirely ready to accept that Sousuke wouldn’t return the favor, that Sousuke would use him and leave. Sousuke is almost offended by it, so when they’re drying off he tosses his own towel over Momo’s head, walks over to him and quickly rubs at his hair to dry him off.

When he pulls the towel back, Momo is grinning almost dreamily, so his body is easy to push down onto the bench, limbs pliant and warm from the shower. He gasps when Sousuke kneels, tugging open the towel wrapped around his skinny waist. Sousuke sucks him without warning, taking him to the root, holding him by his lower back. Momo is practically shouting, his moans are so loud, so when Sousuke pulls off it’s to tell him to keep quiet.

Momo’s skin tastes distinctly clean - a mix of chlorine and soap, his cock like hot silk on Sousuke’s tongue. He’s smooth, but not from shaving, and it makes Sousuke’s groin pulse. Momo comes quickly, filling his mouth with it and hitting the top of Sousuke’s head gently to try and pry him off, unable to comprehend that Sousuke  _wants_  it - wants to taste him.

Sousuke leans back on his heels, wipes away at his mouth as Momo collapses in a boneless heap against the wall, the bench only barely holding him from slipping down into a puddle on the floor. His sated grin is so lazy and ridiculous that Sousuke can’t help but lean up to kiss him, laughing at the way it takes Momo a few tries to actually gain the muscle to kiss him back.

“So good, senpai,” Momo mumbles, humming happily, and Sousuke thinks he might be ruined for the rest of his life on this kid.

-

Rin seems to be drifting further and further away from his dreams, Sousuke notices. He’s moving closer to things more relevant in the present, more easily within reach, and Sousuke doesn’t understand it fully. Has he not been wanting the same thing almost his whole life? What’s different now?

It makes Sousuke think, because he’s becoming more and more unsure of what he’s doing anymore - if he even knows what he wants. University still feels like years away, yet it’s right around the corner, looming in wait.

Sousuke sits back on a small mound of grass on campus, watches Rin in the distance with Ai. He’s becoming more and more bold with him - kissing his forehead in public, holding his hand. Part of it makes Sousuke nervous to witness, but mostly it just fills him with an ugly flush of jealousy - not for the people involved, but for the ease with which they can touch each other like that.

As if from nowhere, Momo’s face appears above Sousuke’s, blocking out the sun.

“Did you know there’s over four hundred thousand species of beetle in the world?” Momo practically yells, his backpack still partly open and hanging off his shoulder.

Sousuke squints up at him. “No.”

“Well, now you do!” Momo grins, and then flops like a sack of potatoes to Sousuke’s side, mimicking his laid back stance, gazing up at the faded edges of the clouds in the sky.

“How do you even know that?” Sousuke asks, laughing a little.

“I know tons of things,” he replies, and then points a finger up, like he’s making a point, the sky as his audience, “I find the consumption of raw, statistical knowledge to be fascinating.”

Sousuke turns his head to stare at him. “Seems a little, what do you call it?  _Dorky_?”

Momo huffs, dropping his hand to his chest. “I never said I wasn’t dorky too.”

“I guess not,” Sousuke snorts.

“I think it’s kinda cool to be different, you know? Like. Different to how people expect you to be.”

“Well,” Sousuke says, swallowing around a sudden rush of nerves. The wind is blowing Momo’s fiery hair into his eyes, and the urge to brush the strands away from his forehead is worrying. “You are definitely that.”

“Well, like,  _you_  even,” Momo says, turning and squinting against the sun and the few pieces of hair remaining in his eyes. Sousuke can’t help it, and he reaches up to smooth the hair away from his forehead. “You seem kind of scary, man, but you’re like. A teddy bear.”

Sousuke laughs, shoving weakly at his shoulder. “If I’m a bear, then you’re a pup.”

“No, I’m an otter!” Momo proclaims, biting his stuck out tongue between his teeth, lifting his body weight to his shoulders on the ground, flopping around like some kind of fish - Sousuke doesn’t think otters are this spastic, but he isn’t quite sure.

Sousuke tugs him back down, his chest filling with this unnamed warmth at the sound of Momo’s unrestrained laughter, sprawled out on the grass like a knot that’s been cut loose - something that’s quite happy to be a mess, with no visible end or beginning.

“Baby otters are called pups, you idiot. That’s what I meant.”

Momo turns to him then, flutters his lashes in a way that is definitely intended to be obnoxious, and says, “So you think I’m cute then?”

“Where did you get that from-”

“Did I not tell you I absorb facts? Keep up, man.”

Something about Momo being a little shit again, with this threaded hint of flirting beneath it, has Sousuke rolling up and over, tackling the kid. Momo makes that face he does when he starts to get hard - his eyes all open and bleary in wonder, his lips parting on shaky breaths. Sousuke tickles him to dispel it.

By the time Momo is out of breath from laughing, shrieking at Sousuke to stop, even Sousuke feels dizzy from that happy rush of adrenaline, the kind he’s only ever got before from winning his stupid bets versus Rin. Momo just gazes up at him like he’s the sun, even though he’s currently blocking it, covering the boy in his own shadow.

“You’d make a really good teacher, I think,” Momo blurts suddenly, and Sousuke glares down at him like he’d just said the sky was made of water.

“What the hell makes you say that?”

“Like, a mentor?” Momo says, and then wilts a little, embarrassed. It takes every ounce of self control that Sousuke has to keep from kissing him, but then they’re already in a bit of a questionable position here, laid out on the grass. “I don’t know. I think anyone would listen to you.”

Sousuke rolls away from him, flops to his back again to squint up at the sky. His shoulder barely hurts anymore, for all the strain he puts it through lately.

“That’s more Rin’s kind of thing than me, I think."

“I don’t know, Rin is too soft sometimes,” Momo says, turning his head to face Sousuke, their noses almost touching. “I think you’re better.”

Sousuke smiles at him, wider than he typically allows himself to display unwilling, helplessly charmed by this boy and his big, perfect mouth.

“Yeah?”

Momo blushes, but he doesn’t shy away from Sousuke as he says, “I think you’re better than Rin at a lot of things.”

Sousuke can’t help it, he nudges Momo’s nose with the tip of his own, just barely touching. “What are you trying to tell me, Momo?”

“I like you,” Momo whispers, and the instant honesty is startling. It feels like someone’s dropped Sousuke’s stomach from a very tall cliff, which shouldn’t feel as good as it does. “A lot,” he adds quietly.

Sousuke is this close to saying it back, his lips parted, but then Momo jumps away from him, sitting up. Ai has ran over to them, and Momo greets him with a, “Ai-senpai, your pink shorts look  _extra_  bright today!”

Ai looks at Momo like he isn’t sure if he wants to run away from him or say thank you, and he seems grateful that he can divert his attention to Sousuke once he sits up from the grass.

“Thanks, Momo, um. Rin wants to go for pizza,” he says, to Sousuke, who grunts and agrees.

Momo claims he has to stay behind, which Sousuke whips his head around and sends him a questioning glance at, but it’s okay because he pinches Sousuke’s side and sends him a tiny, secret smile before he leaves. Suddenly being the third wheel again isn’t something to be worried about.

-

Things are different between them now, more common, albeit still illicitly private. Momo will now have the courage to pull Sousuke aside when it’s dark to kiss him, but only when it’s just the two of them, still too terrified of being seen touching him in public, even if people aren’t paying attention. Sousuke doesn’t push it, still half afraid he’ll spook the kid if he does anything too bold, especially since he’s made it so obvious he doesn’t want anything made public knowledge.

But it’s okay, because for as loud as Momo is, he’s good at keeping secrets. The way he smiles when he knows only Sousuke will see it, the way he’ll hook a finger around Sousuke’s pinky beneath the cover of a table - small little pieces of himself he hands to Sousuke on a platter, things that Sousuke has quickly come to crave.

He would tell anyone that asked that it never influenced the decision on who’s running in the relay, but it has. Not like the decision was ever fully his, but using the comparison of skill to Ai was a cheap-shot and he knows it, so Rin put them both on the team.

They don’t win, which isn’t a surprise, but no one seems all that disappointed. Ai keeps apologizing, like it was his fault alone, though Rin keeps telling him otherwise. Momo seems indifferent, happy to have participated, at least. His older brother is here, Seijurou, and Sousuke wonders if the quiet tension thrumming beneath his usual loud exterior is because of this. Momo has always been so eager to impress.

There is a whole collaboration of other events as well, ones that Sousuke had planned to skip out on, until Momo and Rin had managed to convince him otherwise, both in very different ways. Sousuke feels strong enough to compete, after weeks of debating it quietly with Momo, hushed conversations in the dark, where Momo would say,  _“Just don’t mess up your shoulder, okay?”_  and Sousuke would kiss the breath right out of him.

He’s lined up versus Rin and that kid Rin had been teaching, Ryugazaki, for the butterfly event. When he’s standing, waiting to push off, he glances over at Momo, his brother, and Ai - Ai jumping up and down, cheering for them both, and Momo looking straight at him, like he’s the only one in the room. Something about the nervous smile it pulls from Momo has Sousuke feeling like he could conquer anything, like winning this is just a step on the ladder, leading to something bigger and infinitely more important.

Sousuke wins the event, by nearly next to nothing ahead of Rin. He’s expecting Rin to be angry about it, or at least disappointed, but he’s too caught up in congratulating the Ryugazaki kid for coming in third on his own, with the small blond one hugging them both together. Afterward Rin comes over, smacks him on the back, and says, “Not surprised, it was close though.”

Brimming with the flush of a recent win and day spent in the water, Sousuke walks over with Rin to the rest of their team. Sousuke is about ready to grab Momo away from them all, to pull him up into their dorm for the rest of the day, demand that Rin just stay with Ai for a night. He’s beginning to make his way to Momo, to at least celebrate in a way that is publically acceptable, for now, but Gou appears with the Iwatobi team, congratulating her brother.

The rest happens in a series of heartbreaking stills, skipping through scenes in a torturously slow way. Momo runs right past Sousuke, straight up to Gou, with his older brother laughing behind him. He’s instantly all over her, and Sousuke can’t even look - practically shouting about how pretty she looks, bragging about how he could participate in the relay, how one day he’ll be as strong as her brother. He doesn’t even acknowledge Sousuke is here, nevermind his win, and it feels like someone’s slapped the medal right out of his hands.

Sousuke stiffly congratulates both Rin and Ryugazaki, ignoring Rin’s questioning look at his obviously somber expression, and regretfully ignores Gou when she congratulates him on his win, still too stung by Momo’s inherent obsession over making a scene every time she appears. He leaves the group, aware of the way both Rin and Ai watch him like they’re worried, and goes up to his dorm to sit in silence for a while.

He’d expected to sulk, but once he’s in his dorm he gets angry - angry at himself for questioning his goals, for letting this stupid child cloud his vision enough to think he could change something. He’s even more angry at the fact that Momo has to now validate his win by being happy for him, which defeats the whole purpose of  _everything_  he’s ever worked for - you can’t be a professional athlete if you aren’t selfish, it doesn’t work, and it’s why Rin is moving further and further away from that goal.

After a significant amount of unknown time spent sulking, Sousuke still doesn’t know what he’s going to end up doing. His  _thing_  he had with Momo completely derailed him, so all he can do now is focus on getting back on track, on not letting pointless distractions get in his way. He’s so caught up in his own determination that he doesn’t hear the knocks on the door the first few times.

The softness of the knocking tells him it’s Rin, coming to check up on him, worried about his sullen win, only even bothering to knock out of consideration for this. Only when he opens the door it’s Momo standing there, wringing his hands and looking more afraid than he’s ever been. Sousuke doesn’t even think, just immediately shoves the door shut, but Momo stops it with his foot and a grunted  _‘ow’_.

Sousuke tries to shove him out, his brain too muddled to even say anything at this point, but Momo is fighting back with all of his strength, pushing so hard it sharpens the twinge back in Sousuke’s shoulder, the pain returning from after a day in the pool and the weeks preparing for it. It’s like pain is magnetic to him now, in this state, hating everything he’s become and this boy for doing it to him.

Momo ends up shoving himself through, with Sousuke stumbling backwards. He braces himself against the door, his chest heaving, and then words begin to come tumbling past his lips, out of his control.

“I’m sorry I didn’t congratulate you, I just. I’m not good at this, I’m not.”

“You’re a coward,” Sousuke says, cursing the tightness of his own voice, “And you’re just a kid, so I can’t say I expected much more from you.”

“Stop it!” Momo yells, loud enough to startle Sousuke, his hands balled into fists at his side. “I’m not a kid, I just can’t do it, okay? My brother was there, I can’t.”

“What the fuck does your brother have to do with anything?” Sousuke sneers.

“You don’t know him, okay, the best a guy can do is have a beautiful wife, he just wouldn’t understand, okay, he wouldn’t-”

“I think you should leave,” Sousuke interrupts. He’s not interested in hearing this, in hearing why they can’t happen - it doesn’t matter at this point.

“No!” Momo yells desperately, grabbing at Sousuke’s shoulder. His thin fingers dig into the wrong part of the muscle, the pain spreading like disease, so bad it makes his neck ache. It’s a gut reaction to toss him back into the wall, to pin his wrists at his sides so he stops doing stupid fucking things.

“What do you want from me? Spit it out, Momo,” Sousuke barks, right in his face.

“You! Okay, just. You,” Momo says, his chin crinkling and his eyes wet, and  _shit_ \- he’s crying now.

“I’m sorry,” Sousuke says, letting him go, though he’s almost positive that isn’t why he’s crying. “I don’t think you do want me.”

“No, no, I do,  _please_ ,” he begs, his voice wrecked with restrained tears, grabbing for Sousuke’s neck the way he always does, with heart wrenching familiarity, the way he wraps his bony arms around him. He pulls him close, standing on the balls of his feet so he can press their foreheads together, and Sousuke’s chest feels like it might implode in on itself at this point.

“You sure about that?” Sousuke asks quietly.

Momo nods, and then pushes his hips into Sousuke’s thigh, so needy it makes his body shake, rubbing his erection on the only part of Sousuke he can reach.

“You gonna come just from this?” Sousuke asks darkly, his vision blurring in a delirious haze when Momo moans so close to his mouth like that. “Just from me shoving you around a bit, holding you down?”

Momo’s entire face lights up, his cheeks burning and his lips parting. “Maybe,” he whispers.

Sousuke leans into him then, kisses his neck softly. He feels an odd surge of desperation and says right into his ear, “Has anyone else seen you come? Other than me.”

“No,” Momo whimpers, still rubbing himself on Sousuke’s thigh, “ _Please_.”

Sousuke leans to the side to lock the door, then drops to his knees and tugs both Momo’s sweatpants and his swim briefs down, the tightness of the bright lycra cutting marks into his pale thighs. Sousuke sucks him off in a sort of apology, his tongue soft and yielding, letting the small little twitches of Momo’s hips set the pace. He groans when Momo grips the back of his hair, pulling him in, and then he has to scramble to stand after Momo comes, because he’s crying again.

“What, what is it?” Sousuke asks, cupping either side of the boy’s face, searching his scrunched, wet eyes for some kind of an answer. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, heh,” Momo says, sniffling and laughing a little, which makes Sousuke almost dizzy with relief. “Figures I hurt you and you think it’s the other way around.”

Sousuke laughs hollowly, a little forced, more confused than anything else. Momo’s bleary amusement clears, and he begins to cry again, this time softer. Sousuke just concentrates on holding his face, giving him enough space to pull up his pants over his spent cock, but moving back in to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes with his thumbs.

“I’m so sorry, Sousuke-senpai,” he cries, his face crumpling. If Sousuke weren’t holding it, he’d be hiding his face in his hands, or maybe beneath the fabric of his shirt. “I didn’t mean it. Watching you walk away from me like that was the worst thing I’ve ever felt in my life, knowing I hurt you. I can’t do it anymore, I won’t pretend, screw my brother-”

“Hey, hey,” Sousuke says, hushing Momo and calming him with soft, chaste kisses to all the damp places on his face - the corners of his mouth, under his eyes, the bow of his lip. He keeps repeating that it’s okay, ignoring his own opinion on the whole thing because all he wants to do right now is calm Momo down.

Eventually Momo stops crying, looking embarrassed with himself for having reacted that way, but Sousuke just gives him some water and orders him to drink it, tells him that he’ll dehydrate himself from crying so much. Momo takes an unsteady seat on his bed and picks at the label on the bottle, only looking up when Sousuke sits next to him.

Sousuke decides now needs to be the time they talk about this, before it gets any farther out of hand.

“Momo, I don’t give a shit who knows and who doesn’t know.”

“But-”

“No, listen to me,” Sousuke says, taking the water away from him so he stops peeling at the label and looks at him, “You don’t have to tell your brother what I am to you, I don’t care about that. Just don’t lie to me about how much you care, okay? Don’t give me something I can’t keep, because I’m not good at letting things go.”

Momo goes all shy and quiet, looking down at his hands, and says, “You still want me?”

“Hey,” Sousuke says, tipping Momo’s chin up with his fingers, forcing him to look and stop being shy or embarrassed about it. “Are you  _really_  asking me that question?”

Momo grins, all crooked and wild, his eyes still wet and swollen from crying. He climbs into Sousuke’s lap, sits on the width of one of his thighs, and lets his arms hang loose from his shoulders, careful not to press into the sore muscle of his bad one.

“I won’t lie to you anymore, or even pretend,” Momo says, knocking his forehead into Sousuke’s. “Promise.”

Sousuke exhales in relief, letting his arms tighten around Momo’s waist, kissing him. Momo just huddles around him after, pressing his damp face into Sousuke’s neck and refusing to move. He speaks after a while, right into Sousuke’s skin, and asks, “Am I your boyfriend now?”

It’s unexpected enough to pull a genuine laugh from Sousuke. As if Momo was the one unsure, and not himself - as if something like a word could explain what this is.

“You’re whatever the hell you want to be,” Sousuke says.

They stay hidden in his dorm for a while, Sousuke already planning on his excuse, that his shoulder had started to act up again. Sousuke moves to drop Momo’s hand when they go out into the hall together, but Momo grunts in refusal, squeezes his fingers tighter. A win is a win, even when it feels like you lost something in the process, but maybe this is just the beginning of something.


End file.
